Life is What Happens to You
by Della Diaz
Summary: ...When you're busy making other plans. Kimi must help her daughter with a school report. A major revelation is made; lots of fainting is involved. CHAPTER EIGHT UP! Please read and review.
1. Project

"Mom?" called Maleta. "MOM?????"  
  
Her mother came running into Maleta's bedroom. "What is it, Mally? I'm trying to do the dishes."  
  
Maleta replied, "I have to do a report about my family's history, Mom. Can you help me with it?"  
  
"Yes, dear," her mother said. "Let me finish up cleaning and I'll get the photo albums, okay?"  
  
"Okay!" Maleta smiled, and her mother left.  
  
Once her mother was definitely gone, Maleta sighed and turned her smile down into a pout, showing softly white teeth.   
  
Her eyes were almond shaped, the colour of violets in early spring, and her hair was a dark violet-black, just like her mother's. Maleta wore it in a long braid down her back and almost past her butt, like a book character she had read about once. On her nose sat a pair of wire-rimmed glasses like that old singer's that her mom said her dad had liked.  
  
Maleta wore a bright yellow sundress over a dark red mockturtleneck shirt and a pair of jeans decorated with patches of scrap fabric. She also had on blue socks and black hightop sneakers. Maleta had inherited her totally super-awesome fashion sense from her mom. Kimi Watanabe had become a famous designer, to the anger of her family. They saved almost all of their money, though, and lived in a small, two bedroom house with a little garden in England.   
  
The problem with family histories, Maleta decided, was that you had to know about your family. All she knew about her father was his name and profession. Not why he left his wife and daughter, not what he looked like, not if she resembled him. Maleta was angry with her mom for never telling her this, but maybe Kimi would now.  
  
After a while, Kimi came back up to Maleta's room, stepping over all the clothes on the floor, and sat on Maleta's four-poster bed with her daughter. "So what exactly do you need to do?"  
  
"I need to know all about my immediate family, grandparents, aunts, and uncles," Maleta said, staring at her notebook paper. "And if I know about some more distant ancestors, I get more credit."  
  
"Okay," said Kimi. "Who do you want to start with?"  
  
"Dad."  
  
Maleta felt her mother recoil and she cringed. She probably should have started with someone else, but all of her distant relatives were bad choices, and her mother wasn't a good start, either. Dad it was.  
  
"All right," said Kimi, standing. "Follow me, then."  
  
Maleta knitted her brow into a frown. "Why, Mom?"  
  
"Field trip time." Kimi attempted a smile. "To the attic?"  
  
"Okay."  
  
AN: Sorry it's short. I'll write another chapter if I have time tonight and if I get good reviews. Guesses on who Maleta's father is anyone? :)  
  
Disc: I don't own anyone but Maleta. You can use her in your own stories if you want, but write me a review saying that you are. 


	2. Maleta Virgil Pickles

The attic was dusty and not especially comfortable. Maleta hoped that they wouldn't be sitting up there all evening--it was only lit by one naked lightbulb, and she did not like the dark. Luckily, her mom just dug out a trunk and said that they could go sit downstairs and look at it. It was heavy to carry down the stairs and into Kimi's mauve bedroom, but once Maleta saw how beautiful the trunk was, she decided it was worth it.  
  
It was dark green, as a forest compressed into leather might be, and had brass pieces on the corners and at the lock. Above the lock, a brass nameplate read LAP. Maleta frowned, confused. Those certainly weren't her father's initials. "Mom, why does it say--" she began, pointing at the nameplate, but Kimi just nodded and looked at her. Maleta had the feeling that she should just listen for a little while.  
  
"Those are your great-grandfather's initials," Kimi said. "They stand for Louis Ashley Pickles."  
  
"Ashley?" Maleta snickered. "My great-grandfather's middle name was Ashley?"  
  
"Yep," Kimi replied. "He didn't really think it was a very strong middle name even as a young adult, even though Ashley was still a boy's name then. So Grampa decided to give his son a weak middle name, too. Your grandfather's full name was Stuart Darcy Pickles--and Darcy was indeed a boy's name, too."  
  
"Did he give my dad a weird name like that?" Maleta had never realized, though she had pondered the various parts of her father's existence for most of her ten years, that even this little story about his family would be so enjoyable.  
  
"Yes. Your dad's middle name was Vivian, and his brother's middle name was Janus." Kimi smiled. "That's why we decided to give you a middle name that was usually used for boys, to turn the tradition backwards. Your cousins are named the same way, you know."  
  
"They are?"  
  
"Adelaide Steven and Steven Adelaide. They're twins. I don't think you've seen them for a few years, but Uncle Dil and Uncle Jack send us Christmas cards every year. Shall we open the box?"  
  
Maleta grinned. "Yeah!"  
  
Inside, the box seemed stuffed with all sorts of photo albums, folders, and loose bits of paper. Kimi pulled one out. It was a photo of a woman with dark hair cut in a bob and a man examining his wet hair in a mirror with an expression of mock-depression. They were sitting on the sand and looked familiar.  
  
"This is your father, Thomas Vivian Pickles," said Kimi, pointing. "You might want to go grab a notebook, Maleta, because this is going to be a lot of information all at once."  
  
Maleta went and found her five-subject, then dashed back. "Thomas...Vivian...Pickles..." she replied, writing it down. "But better known as Tommy?"  
  
"Right. And this is me, Kimi Hanako Pickles. My name means "sovereign's flower child", if you need anything like that, and your dad's means "alive twin". Not that either is really true."  
  
Maleta looked down at the floor, unsure of what she could say. "Umm..." she muttered, trying to change the subject a little. "So what does my name mean?"  
  
"Well," Kimi replied, "We don't know what Maleta means. It's an old surname from the French half of my family. I found it very far back in the family tree, and I thought it sounded nice. Your middle name, Virgil, means "strong"."  
  
At that moment, the telephone rang. Kimi looked up, a bit startled. "Oh," she said suddenly. "When's this project due, Maleta?"  
  
"Next month. Mr. Lleonard wanted to give us a good headstart."  
  
Nodding, Kimi brushed her bangs behind one ear. "Let's continue with this tomorrow, then, okay?"  
  
"Okay."  
  
*  
  
AN: Maleta really is an old French surname. REALLY old. As in, I found it on a list of prostitutes from the 1500s old.  
  
Oh, and points to anyone who knows what song this fic is named after without looking it up.   
  
Two hints:  
  
One--It's by that old singer with the big, round glasses. ^_~  
  
Two--It's used pretty prominently in a movie that includes Alicia Witt in its cast.  
  
Thank you, Lil Kimi and underestimated_gurl, for reviewing me! More reviews are always appreciated. :)  
  
See you next time! 


	3. Kimi Hanako Pickles

She didn't know what could possibly have dragged her tired body out of bed that Saturday, but somehow, Kimi got up. Her eyes were dark, rimmed with sleep, and mascara streaked her cheeks. Nothing was going to be simple this morning.  
  
After washing her face, she felt marginally better. There was something about a clean face that justbrightened everything a little. Being as it was a saturday, she had no need to take a shower just yet, so Kimi threw on a blue dressing gown and walked downstairs.  
  
Maleta wasn't up yet, of course. She was just like her father in that sense--if anyone hated to wake up in the morning, it was him. This was going to be a complicated morning, she realized. All Maleta wanted to know about was her father, and one would think that it wouldn't be hard to tell her. Sacrifice for the child and all that, after all.  
  
Her daughter would never understand the pain her mother felt when she was asked a single question. There was no way she could ever realize the horrible memories that Kimi felt flooding back to her in waves of despair. This was not the time to linger on that, though. I must do what's best for Maleta, she thought, and if the best involves sadness on my part, then that cannot be helped.  
  
Toast would be a good way to start the morning. Kimi put four pieces of bread in the toaster and got the plates. Behind her, Maleta crashed down the stairs. Kimi turned around. Maleta was still in pajamas, with her hair in that mussed up braid of hers.  
  
Handing her a plate of toast, Kimi walked up the stairs, chewing on a bit of crust. She hoped Maleta would follow--and luckily, she did. Kimi couldn't open her mouth to speak for some reason--what would she say?  
  
Luckily, it didn't take long to get upstairs and into the bedroom, by the trunk. The Trunk, even. It deserved a name, or at least a capital letter, seeing as it would be the focus of her thoughts for quite a while now.  
  
Setting down her toast, Kimi unlocked it and started pulling things out. Clearing her throat, she tried her voice. "Do you have your notebook, Maleta?" She sounded different today. Her throat seemed tighter than usual, trying to swallow the words back down inside.  
  
Maleta nodded. "So...can we talk about Dad today?" she asked.  
  
Kimi bristled. "Yes. I didn't tell you much of anything last night, did I?"  
  
"Not too much. But there's still today, right?" Maleta's face contorted into an attempt at a smile.  
  
Smiling, Kimi nodded. "Of course." Perhaps this would be easier than she thought. "What do you know about your father already, Maleta?"  
  
She ticked the facts off on her fingers. "His name was Thomas Vivian Pickles. He was an independent filmmaker. He had a brother. He died in a sailing accident when he was twenty-two."  
  
Had she really told her daughter so little? Kimi cringed inside. After having gone so long completely ignorant of her French roots, she should have been much more open with her own daughter. Luckily, though, it was easier to explain long-past family members to a willing ten year old than an angry eighteen year old.  
  
"Well, that's good to start with," Kimi said, "but you definitely need some more information. Should we start with his family's history or his?"  
  
Maleta frowned, and inwardly, Kimi smacked herself. "I mean, would you like to tell me about where his family came from, or would you like to hear more about him?"  
  
"Hmm...I think his family. If I know all about them, then I can understand Dad bettter, can't I?"  
  
"Yes, I suppose so." Kimi pulled out a thick, black binder filled with papers. "I can only tell you what Tommy already told me, but considering what a nut he was for geneology, that's quite a lot."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yep." Kimi grinned. "Your dad was a geek in that sense. When he was about sixteen, he became fascinated with the idea of knowing who his ancestors were, and that was all he could talk about. It really was interesting, though.  
  
"He was Scots-British mix on his father's side, and insisted that he was descended from Fleance himself, but I think he was making that up--"  
  
"Who's Fleance?"  
  
"Fleance was a Scottish king," Kimi answered, "who was the first in a long line of Scottish kings. You'll read more about him when you do Shakespeare."  
  
Maleta nodded, satisfied, making a note in her book.  
  
"Anyway, I don't know if that was really true, but he certainly believed it. On his mother's side, he was Russian. His grandparents were first-generation immigrants to America in the aftermath of World War I. They were Jewish, as was your grandmother and your father."  
  
"But I'm not specifically Jewish or Christian or anything else, because you two had different religions and didn't want to compromise one or the other," Maleta interrupted, reciting her mother's explanation of their religion.  
  
"Right. His father's ancestors came over earlier than his mother's, though--sometime in the 1800s. He's got a lot of information in his binder here. We'll go through it sometime."  
  
Kimi reached in the Trunk again and sat searching for the blue folder that held Tommy's more important information. She found it in the side of the trunk and pulled it out.  
  
"In here, I have a copy of his birth certificate, a copy of our marriage certificate, and--some other things." Among them being the closest a Missing, Presumed Dead person got to a death certificate. Kimi didn't want to mention that thing.  
  
"Umm...cool."  
  
"All right. Well, his parents were named Didi and Stu, of course. He was born on January 12th. He was...well, here, let me get the baby book."  
  
Pulling it out, and hiding a snicker at the cover--Dr. Lipschitz's Baby Memory Guide--Kimi turned to the second page, right after the family tree. "Thomas Vivian Pickles, born January 12th. Length, 20 inches, weight, 7 pounds. It's weird to think that anyone could be so small, isn't it? I don't know exactly what you need for your project, and I'm not sure information of him as a baby will be useful, but..." She was being waffly, Kimi knew, but she didn't care.  
  
"That's okay," Maleta answered. "This is fun."  
  
Kimi felt her shoulders suddenly lose much of their tension. "Well, let's keep looking--Tommy's mother wrote in quite a lot of his firsts."  
  
And for the rest of the morning, that's what they did.  
  
AN: Thanks for pointing that out, Lil Kimi. Didn't actually know that. Oh well. ^_^ I'm just a big dork for interesting names, and I had to devote a little time to some Bree-passion.   
  
Also, if you take a look at Della's and my author page, Rugrats isn't our first canon. (Actually, it's like our fourth.) I strive to get as many facts accurate as possible, seeing as we come from the stick-up-the-bottom stickler canon, Harry Potter. If I make mistakes from now on, please tell me, because I'm generally clueless. If I think it's worth changing, I probably will. Otherwise, I won't, and if that makes you uncomfortable, just think of the story as an AU, okay?  
  
As for a better hint, you're thinking of living singers. This guy's dead. And the song's used in Mr. Holland's Opus. (Alicia Witt is the girl with the red hair, who "plays the sunset".)  
  
Thank you very much for reviewing, Tropic of Scorpio, Lil Kimi, and underestimated-gurl! I hope you find this chapter to your liking. See you next time! 


	4. Tears and Taffeta

Lunch was a treat for Maleta; they went to The Green Dragon, a lovely pub on the outskirts of town. Maleta got sausages and chips, and lemonade mixed with orange juice while her mother enjoyed cottage pie and a good pint of Guinness.  
  
She wasn't sure why exactly Kimi was taking them out to eat when they rarely did, but Maleta had the feeling it had to do with all this storytelling. Maybe Mum was getting tired and didn't want to make lunch; Maleta remembered faintly of times long ago when Kimi had been plagued with problems, remembered when her mother wasn't strong enough to get out of bed and take her to primary school; or perhaps Mum just wanted to make the day more special. Maleta hoped the latter was more accurate.  
  
"So, what else do we need to talk about this afternoon?" Kimi had gone into fashion-designer-in-a-hurry mode, holding a ball-point pen at the ready above her notebook.  
  
"When Dad was older," Maleta replied. "We stopped when he was seventeen and it was just getting good."  
  
Her mother was smiling slightly, but her eyes looked wetter than usual. "All right," Kimi replied. "Why don't I tell you a little bit while we're here?"  
  
At Maleta's nod, Kimi began.  
  
"Well, there was this fabulous idea he had for a film..."  
  
...  
  
Tommy seemed rabid on that day. He acted like a toy poodle looking for attention all during school, and it wasn't any better when they all went over to his house to hang out. Tommy had absolutely dashed home, leaving Dil, Kimi, Phil, and Lil to walk over to the Pickles residence without him, talking curiously about what was up with the guy.  
  
He met them at the door in his Inspiration Costume; it consisted of a pair of bright magenta trousers he'd picked up on clearance, an old radiation-yellow t-shirt with rolled-up sleeves, a dark green waistcoat, and a pink silk scarf tied delicately 'round his neck. A motheaten red beret topped off his look, which Tommy liked to call "Bohemian".  
  
"Oh, no," said Phil. "Not the Outfit again."  
  
"What's the movie idea of the day?" asked Lil.  
  
Tommy replied dramatically, "It is not a movie idea for a day, but for all time."  
  
"Don't quote Ben Jonson, dude," Dil said. "It sounds stupid when you mess up."  
  
"who's Ben Jonson?"  
  
Dil sighed. "Never mind."  
  
"Anyway," Kimi said, "This is all very interesting, but it isn't your film idea."  
  
Tommy smiled, almost gratefully. "Yes," he said. "My film. Not movie. I had this idea of a man who lived in a mansion at the top of a mountain--"  
  
"Done," the other four chorused.  
  
He looked a bit miffed. "When?"  
  
"Dracula," said Kimi.  
  
"Edward Scissorhands," added Phil.  
  
"Citizen Kane," chimed in Dil.  
  
"Okay, okay," Tommy answered. "That wasn't the real idea anyway."  
  
"Sure it wasn't."  
  
"It wasn't! It's only part of the real story. So the man lives in the mansion and no one knows him, or likes him, and he's lonely. One day he decides that he can't handle being alone, so he goes down to the biggest road within walking distance with some rope, finds a tree, and gets ready to hang himself."  
  
"Why does he need to be by the road?"  
  
"So that someone finds his remains and he doesn't just rot alone in his house. So he's all ready to off himself when a family of Gypsies comes by--"  
  
"You should say Romany; it's more polite."  
  
"Shut up, Dil. So, a family of Gypsies comes by, and they manage to stop him at the very last moment. He was afraid of breaking his neck, so he hung himself so that he'd suffocate instead, and they came before he died and they cut him down. When he was conscious, he explains to them about how lonely he is. They take him back to the mansion and tell him to get his most prized possession."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"It's a necklace made of gold with pearls and stuff. So he brings it out to them, and the Gypsy father smiles and says that if the man brings out some clothing to wear, he can come live with them and not be lonely."  
  
"And THAT'S your big story?"  
  
"What's wrong with it?" Tommy asked defensively.  
  
"Well, it's kind of short," Phil said. "And the happy ending is too easy."  
  
"It's only the beginning," said Tommy. "See, the necklace is beautiful, but it's cursed by another Gypsy who gets mad at the man. The real story is the necklace passing from person to person, ruining and eventually killing all of them, until someone breaks the curse."  
  
"That's stupid," Phil said.  
  
"I like it. I think it's romantic."  
  
"Thanks, Kimi."  
  
"Umm...Kimi?" Lil asked. "Maybe I wasn't paying attention, but Tommy didn't mention romance. There wasn't even a main female character."  
  
Dil felt this a good time to butt in. "I think Kimi means romantic in the Medieval sense of the word. Back in the really old days, a romantic story was a story with adventure and supernatural things. It didn't always have kissing."  
  
"But the story would have kissing, too," added Tommy. "Eventually. So will you help me with this one?"  
  
"I will," said Kimi. Dil, Lil, and Phil quickly echoed her.  
  
"Great, guys!" Tommy exclaimed. "Thanks!"  
  
He said it to all of them, but Kimi felt like he was speaking just to her.  
  
They worked on the story together, getting the basic storyline down, and then the details. It was really a complicated idea, but it sounded really cool in theory. When Tommy had convinced them all that the idea was brilliant, he delegated jobs to everyone.  
  
"Kimi, you can find the costumes. You'll have to do research and stuff, because I want this movie to be really accurate. And you have to find a necklace for it, too. Okay?"  
  
"Cool!" There was something really attractive about making clothes, in Kimi's opinion. All she had to start out with was some fabric and a sewing machine, but when it was complete, she had made something useful. Kimi loved being useful.  
  
"Lil, you scope out places we could film it. We can probably get to another state if necessary, but no overseas stuff, all right?"  
  
"Got it."  
  
"Phil, you get to look for actors. We'll all be in it, of course, but there's a lot more people than we have."  
  
"Fun."  
  
"And Dil? You can help me write out all the script."  
  
"Awesome, bro."  
  
The five teens got to work. Phil managed to find all sorts of volunteer actors--it was kind of surprising that so many were willing to work for free. Lil, after much working, found this great, wooded spot right out of the border; it was only an hour away, and there was a nice meadow and a beach nearby.  
  
Dil and Tommy were making headway in the script. They had the majority of the movie written out, and it was looking better than anything they'd done before. Everything was going great...except in Kimi's department. There was just so many costumes! She was getting really bogged down. It was getting to the breaking point.  
  
Tommy came over to her house one day to see how the costumes were going. Kira let him in and told him that Kimi was in her room, sewing. Tommy went up to see poor KImi crying amid quite a lot of fabric.  
  
"Kimi? What's wrong?"  
  
Rather than answering, she curled herself more tightly against her bed, and tried to silence her cries. Kimi didn't hear him, but within a few seconds, Tommy had stepped carefully over the corderoys and calicos to reach her.  
  
Looking into her eyes, he asked again. "Kimi? Please tell me what's wrong. Is there too much to sew?"  
  
She moved her head, something between a nod and a shake.  
  
"Can I help you, Kimi?"  
  
Kimi shrugged, and buried her face in her knees. "Miss..."  
  
"Oh." Tommy knew what was wrong. "You miss your brother, don't you?"  
  
Finally, he got a real response. Kimi nodded tearfully and flung herself into Tommy's arms. He was a little surprised, especially since she was holding him so tightly, but it wasn't bad at all, really. He tentatively put his arms around her and tried to rub her back soothingly.  
  
"I know, Kimi. We all miss him terribly."  
  
"He--" Kimi's voice broke. "He used to read to me while I sewed."  
  
"Well, he'll be back this summer, right?" Tommy asked. "He can help us with our film, then. And--and, well, if it helps..."  
  
Kimi looked up at him, her face streaked with tears.  
  
"I--I could read to you while you sewed, if you like. I mean, if you want--it's okay if you don't."  
  
She smiled and laid her head on his shoulder. "I'd like that. You're a good friend, Tommy."  
  
"Do you want to start now?" Tommy asked. "It's only 1:30. We could work for a long time yet."  
  
"Yes," she said, "Let's. I'll work on your first outfit, and you can read to me from..."  
  
Kimi stood and went over to her volumnous bookshelf, looking over all her books. Finally, she grabbed a slim paperback and handed it to Tommy.  
  
"Poe?" he asked, looking at the cover.  
  
"That's what we were in the middle of when--well, before. They're short stories, and easy to read. You can start at 'The Mystery of Marie Roget'."  
  
"All right."   
  
As Kimi got the sewing machine back on track, Tommy opened to the right page and began to read. "There are few persons, even among the calmest thinkers, who have not occasionally been startled into a vague yet thrilling half-credence in the supernatural, by coincidences of so seemingly marvellous a character that, as mere coincidences, the intellect has been unable to receive them..."  
  
...  
  
"Wait, Mum," Maleta interrupted. "Who were you crying about?"  
  
"My brother, Chuckie. He went to a boarding school that year, and he hadn't been writing."  
  
"Why didn't you tell me about him yet?"  
  
Kimi appeared flustered. "Well...well, because you wanted to hear about your father, and while Chuckie was a good friend of his, I thought he was more part of my stories about myself."  
  
"Oh. Will you tell me about him when you've finished this one?"  
  
"Yes, Maleta."  
  
Inside herself, Kimi sighed. 'So much from staying away from the painful bits...'  
  
~*~  
  
It's nice to see y'all again! Sorry, but I've been really busy lately. This chapter is a bit longer than I usually make 'em, though, so I hope that's a little comfort. I'll try to keep on a good schedule this time, all right?  
  
All the usual stuff applies. Rugrats borrowed from Klasky-Csupo (sp?). Movie plot borrowed and reworked slightly from The Red Violin. Watch The Red Violin if you haven't; the movie is AWESOME. Maleta borrowed from the workings of my mind. The Green Dragon borrowed from England. (You might know it as a place Merry and Pippin sing about in Return of the King, but there is a real Green Dragon out there.)  
  
Hope you're all having a happy new year. Please review, and I'll be back with more sooner!  
  
Love always! 


	5. Turn and Face the Stranger

"Anyway," Kimi said, "Would you like dessert?"  
  
Maleta's eyes widened. "Dessert? Actual dessert? Yes!"  
  
Kimi grinned at the girl, who looked more excited than she had all day. As lovely as the stories were, she supposed, the rarely indulged in dessert trumped them. Kimi went back up to the bar and ordered two slices of cheesecake. She sat back down at their booth, leaning across towards her daughter.   
  
"So that was the easy part of the film, of course, preparing for it. Actually filming it was much, much harder..."  
  
...  
  
The final bell rang, signaling more than the end of the day. Another school year was over when the bell rang, and everyone just about dashed out of their classrooms. Kimi in particular was ecstatic, and she ran to her locker to get her things.  
  
"Woah, slow down, Kimi!" Lil called from down the hall. She approached, wearing her traditional last-day-of-school outfit: a pair of pajamas and fuzzy slippers. "You're not going to the airport any faster by running."  
  
"I might," Kimi said, sticking out her tongue playfully. "I really want to see Chuckie--I can't believe he insisted on staying over at his school a week after classes let out for him!"  
  
Kimi hadn't changed a great deal since her brother had left home to go to Rennoll's Academy of Science. She was still cheerful most of the time, and she still dressed like she fell into a basket of clothing and put on whatever touched her. Feeling more boisterous than usual, she emptied her locker into her backpack and shut it with a slam.  
  
"Goodbye high school, for three months!" she exclaimed, swinging her backpack over one shoulder. "Come on, Lil, let's go find everyone else."  
  
They met where they usually did, at the big painted rock in front of their school. Dil was lounging in the sun on top of it, while Tommy and Phil were in the middle of an argument over something stupid. Kimi wasn't sure what, but she and Lil bounced up.  
  
"Come on, let's go!" she called. "We need to get going home!"  
  
Everyone complied--the other option would be being dragged home by Kimi, who couldn't wait to see her brother, and that would hurt. They were practically sprinting home at her speed, but Kimi didn't care. Her mind was focused totally on seeing her brother, and she managed to make it home ten minutes quicker than she usually did.  
  
"Can we stop running now?" Phil complained,flopping onto the hallway carpeting.  
  
Kimi replied, "Don't be such a baby, Phil. We didn't go that fast."  
  
In return to that comment, Phil stuck his tongue out and stood up.  
  
...  
  
"Wait, Mum? Can you tell me who all these people are, then?" Maleta asked. "I mean, I know who Dad is, and Uncle Dil, but then there's the other people...who're they? What happened to them?"  
  
"Oh," Kimi said, taking a bite of cheesecake. Perhaps they should have dessert more often, because this tasted wonderful. "I probably should've mentioned that. I told you about Uncle Dil, of course. I'll find you a picture of him and Jack and their kids sometime. In fact, I'll find pictures of everyone so you can picture them properly."  
  
Taking a deep breath, she thought. "Phil and Lil were friends of ours--they were twins. Lil owns a diner now, if I remember, and I don't know what Phil does. I don't think anyone really does. Phil was always kind of weird."  
  
Maleta giggled. Her mother's friends sounded very interesting. She would like to meet them someday, and she kind of wondered why she hadn't already. In any case, she definitely wanted to find out about Mum's brother. "And what about Chuckie?" she asked innocently.  
  
Kimi felt rather taken aback at her brother's name, but she kept her composure. "I'll tell you about him in a bit. We're about to get to him, anyway."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Well, that's who we were going to go meet at the airport. He was over in Maine for his school, which was quite expensive. However, Chuckie was very smart, and he won a scholarship, so it wasn't as hard on the family as it could have been..."  
  
...  
  
The airport was crowded, and Kimi bounced on the balls of her feet as she waited for a glimpse of her brother. She stood between her parents, Chaz and Kira, holding their hands as she did when she was five. People streamed out of the airplane, but no one was her brother. She kept her eyes peeled for a gangly boy with shockingly orange hair.  
  
Finally, they saw him, lugging his carryon along beside him and just generally looking exhausted. Kimi ran to hug him, though he didn't hug her back, and their parents swarmed around them both.  
  
"Let me take that for you, Chuckster," Chaz said, lifting the dufflebag from Chuckie's arms.  
  
"It's Charlie now, Dad," Chuckie said, rolling his eyes.  
  
"All right then, Charlie," Kira said, giving him a kiss.  
  
There was definitely something different about her brother, and it wasn't just the fact that he was going by Charlie now, thought Kimi. He seemed kind of uncomfortable by them all, and she felt kind of uncomfortable around him. It was probably just because he'd been gone so long, though. It couldn't be something that serious, after all. Chuckie just needed time to get back to normal.  
  
...  
  
"But you still call him Chuckie," Maleta said. "Didn't he want to be Charlie?"  
  
"It's hard to call someone something new after they've been a different name all your life," Kimi answered. "What if you suddenly decided you wanted to be Alison from now on instead of Maleta? I'd have a hard time remembering."  
  
"But it's like you weren't trying," answered her daughter, frowning. "You called him Chuckie now, and it's been ages since all this happened."  
  
Kimi wanted to glare at the girl, but she didn't. "It's hard to call him Charlie, Maleta. Leave it alone, please."  
  
She didn't want to talk about this now, especially not in public. Kimi immediately associated the name Charlie with less pleasant memories of the man, and she didn't want to think about them right now, even though she was going to end up telling Maleta one of the worst soon. Standing, she went to pay for their meal.  
  
"Let's go home, Maleta. We'll keep up with the story on the way."  
  
Maleta nodded, following her mother out. She wanted to know a lot more about this uncle of hers, but her mother seemed uncomfortable talking about him. Maybe she would on the way home. And if she didn't, Maleta could ask when they were safely at their house.  
  
"So, back to what was going on. My brother--" since Maleta took issue with her calling him Chuckie, apparently--"came home, and we prepared to fill him in on the movie. Tommy thought he'd love it, since it was a story kind of like the Edgar Allen Poe stories Chuckie and I read..."  
  
...  
  
"What kind of idea is that?" Chuckie asked, raising an eyebrow. He was stretched out over a chair, legs over an arm, while Kimi, Lil, Phil, Dil, and Tommy sat on the floor around him. "It sounds stupid."  
  
"It's not," Tommy said, frowning. "Maybe you didn't understand all of it. Here, let me explain it again--"  
  
"You don't have to," Chuckie said shortly. "I get it. I just think it's stupid sounding. It's so--so--so--typical."  
  
"What do you mean, typical?" asked Kimi defensively. "It's a great story. It has twists and turns and everything."  
  
"But you know what's going to happen at the end." Chuckie rolled his eyes. "Eventually, the necklace gets destroyed. Woohoo."  
  
"That's the point," Dil butted in, trying to rescue the conversation. "See, the fun is how we get to the point that the curse can be lifted. It's really good. If you read the screenplay..."  
  
Chuckie shrugged. "At school, my friend, Nick, is making a movie, too. It's much more avant-garde. There's more than one ending."  
  
Phil had been laying on his back, staring at the ceiling, but Chuckie's words made him sit up. "What's with you, Chuckie? You've been acting really weird lately."  
  
"Charlie." Chuckie spat the word out. "And I have not."  
  
"I don't know," Lil said. "You've been really crabby--"  
  
"No. I. Haven't." Chuckie's voice was crisp and cold--it reminded Kimi of lettuce. Sharp-sounding, with no flavour. He stood up, and started for the door. "I'm going home."  
  
Bet you weren't expecting another chapter, were you? Hah! I am back! I'll update when I feel like it, and now that summer vacation is three days away, I'll probably feel like it a LOT more often.  
  
Anyway, please review if you liked the chapter. Please review if you hated the chapter. Please review if you didn't read the chapter. I'm trying to bring in the other elements I planned to deal with in Kimi's past, but getting through this story is only the beginning of the turmoil. Heh.  
  
See you all later! Much love! 


	6. I Will Go Down With This Ship

"He said that?" Maleta asked, frowning as they walked the tree lined path towards their house. "He called your movie stupid and all that?"  
  
Kimi nodded, biting her lip. The way her brother behaved that day--and the days following--were still painful to her, even though it had been eleven years ago or so.   
  
"Yes, he did. I never expected such words to come from him. I couldn't believe that he could just--just blow off his best friend's idea. That wasn't the Chuckie I knew. He changed a great deal in a year, and apparently, we hadn't caught up with him yet...or at least, not in his mind."   
  
She clenched her hands into fists, trying to force the anger back. Maleta shouldn't see her this angry at someone they were related to. It was too hard to keep giving her daughter all these details. Anyway, many of them a ten year old shouldn't hear.  
  
Biting her lip, Kimi finished the story a bit lamely. "Chuckie ended up refusing to play a part in what he called a 'stupid fairy tale', and we had to find someone to take his part. Luckily, we had a decent crew, and that wasn't too hard. Tommy entered the film in a contest and it won first. We were so proud of the work we'd done. And we were so sure that your father would be famous someday--like a new Tim Burton sort of famous. He'd be a cult classic."  
  
Grinning to herself, Kimi remembered telling Tommy as much. And then she remembered the situation they were in when she'd told him that, and she stopped smiling so well. There was another memory she couldn't tell Maleta about, especially not now.  
  
Maleta didn't seem to notice that her mother was spacing, or that the story she'd told had a less-than-satisfactory ending. Her face showed her fascination, and as a question grew in her mind, she became more timid. "Um...Mum?"  
  
"Yes, Maleta?"  
  
"Will--will you tell me about when Dad died?" Maleta looked down at the ground she was treading. The question was awful, and it sat in front of them now like a hungry beast. If they didn't feed it, it might devour them forever...but feeding it might be so much work that being eaten might just be easier.  
  
Kimi sucked in her breath. She knew they would have to get to that story for this project, but it wasn't due for several weeks. Why did Maleta have to ask her now? They'd just had a lovely meal and her daughter was going to spoil it.  
  
No. She wasn't going to spoil it. Maleta didn't spoil things. I'm the one ruining this, Kimi thought. My anger is getting in the way of helping Mally. She deserves to know the truth--I did, and I didn't get the truth when I needed it. If she needs to know, I will tell her.  
  
Clearing her throat, she tried to begin. "Yes, I will. Do you want to know now?" It would be best to make sure that Maleta wanted to know at the moment--if she was just trying to get a promise for the future, then Kimi would be very happy to oblige.  
  
Maleta paused a moment, thinking it all over. Finally, she spoke in a hesitant whisper. "Yes."  
  
Sighing, Kimi tried to smile. Better a willing ten year old than an angry eighteen year old. That was all she had to remember, and she'd be all right. "We'll talk about it when we're home," she said, pointing to their house, which was still a bit distant. "I need time to figure out how I'm going to tell it to you--I'm not as good a storyteller as your uncle Dil."  
  
As they neared the house, Kimi tried to decide what to mention and what to keep private. Maleta would need more background information than she yet had, and to really understand, she would have had to hear about Kimi's anger at her mother, Tommy's anger at his brother...All these feelings rushed back to her, hurting as terribly as they had six years ago.  
  
Maleta herself was thinking about various things. She should have some memory of this stuff--she was four then, right? Maleta tried to think back to her earliest memories. Her mother taking her to primary school for the first time, dressed in black. Her mother, unable to get out of bed. Going to school with Ellie Garver and Mrs. Garver, because her own mother was asleep. A man with greying hair, that once must have been vividly red, and someone like Mum, but older.  
  
She frowned. Who were they? Trying to picture the two people in her mind, Maleta thought. They were both getting old, but not that old. Maybe around the age of her friends' parents who had children in college already. About Mrs. Pierson's age, maybe. And the woman looked like Mum, but her hair seemed blacker. I'll find their pictures, Maleta vowed. I don't need to trouble Mum about them.  
  
As Kimi unlocked their front door, she began to speak. "Well, Mally, let's get some hot chocolate, and we'll go sit in the living room and talk."  
  
Maleta nodded, going for their supplies of hot cocoa. Mum made the stuff differently from her friends' parents. Mum said it was the American influences--she didn't like hot chocolate that wasn't very sweet. Maleta was inclined to agree with Kimi.  
  
They made the chocolate silently and went out into the living room armed with coasters. Kimi sat down on the couch, and Maleta went to cuddle up next to her, head against her mother's shoulder. Kimi wrapped an arm around her, smiling.  
  
Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. It needed to be said, in any case. Needed to be said more than anything else she'd ever held inside of her. "You'll--you'll need some background information for this all to make sense. This happened when you were four. I hadn't gotten to see much of you for most of your life up until then, and neither had your father."  
  
Maleta frowned. "Why not?"  
  
"Well," Kimi murmured, trying to find the right words. "Well, I was eighteen when you were born. So was your father. That's young to have a child, and our parents were...not pleased, to say the least. They insisted that we both go to school--that they would take care of you. I was secretly overjoyed, because I desperately wanted to go to college."  
  
Nodding, Maleta listened. For a couple of moments, she'd wondered if her mother had given her away or something, and knowing that she hadn't made things easier.  
  
"We both went to college, then--to the real college, too. I was expecting to go to a community college for two years, but my parents insisted that I get a good education, and I was glad. They were selfless in taking care of you. I didn't get on well with them, but they loved you. And Tommy's parents did, too, of course. It wasn't until after we'd graduated that we were married, and we moved into our own place."  
  
"What did you go to college to be?" Maleta asked, playing with the end of her braid.  
  
"I graduated with a degree in business. Your father, always a bit impractical, got something like film-making. It was what he wanted to do, and he never expected that he wouldn't manage it. I thought it was horribly romantic." Kimi giggled, thinking about it, and about the other things they'd planned.  
  
"What're you laughing about?" Maleta wanted to know.  
  
"We planned out movie after movie, and we planned to put you in all of them. You'd be our actress daughter." Kimi grinned. "And you'd grow up to be famous, too. It all sounded lovely."  
  
"Was I in any movies?" Strange that she couldn't remember any of this! Maleta was a bit disappointed.  
  
"You were in one," her mother answered, smiling. "And you would've been in his last one, but we were going to shoot the part with you in it a few days after the day your father had his accident."   
  
Saying those words hurt. He had an accident--no, he didn't, he died. Euphemisms only made everything more painful. 'We're so sorry about your loss,' people had said to her. 'We're sorry to hear of Tom's passing.' Kimi had wanted to scream at them. No, he hadn't passed anywhere. He hadn't been lost, because she wasn't going to find him again. He had died. With a capital D. And a capital I E D, to make it clear.  
  
...  
  
"It's fine, Kimi," he told her, holding his personal video camera. Running a hand through his violet hair, Tommy looked around their hotel room. "You and Mal stay here. I'm just going to go out and film these waves. They're gorgeous, Kimi, love. I want to remember them."  
  
Kimi sighed as she listened to him. Her arms were folded over her chest. She looked vaguely similar to the way she did in the present time. Her hair was short and spiky, though, evidence of the time the summer had been too hot for her tastes. The hair had grown back about an inch from when she'd shaved it off, and she today had decided to spike it like she was Satan's choirgirl. Her clothing was similar to what it had always been: a white tank top speckled with blue dots over a black t-shirt. She also wore a pleated black skirt and a pair of army boots, and a pair of sunglasses, up on the top of her head.  
  
She and Tommy both dressed oddly in those years--he was wearing something akin to his old bohemian getup, though this outfit matched more. Maleta was dressed vaguely like a fairy princess, in a floaty little lavender dress.  
  
"Fine, Tommy," she said, rolling her eyes. "Come back soon, though, okay? It's not safe out there." A clap of thunder in the distance punctuated her sentence, as though it proved that he shouldn't be going out.  
  
"That's why I want to go," he said, grinning. Tommy bent to pick up his daughter, who squealed with delight. "See you in a little bit, princess," he told her, rubbing his nose against hers. "Keep Mommy from worrying to death, okay, Maleta?"  
  
Maleta, who had no clue what she was promising, nodded with a grin and kissed him on the cheek. Tommy kissed her back and set her down, turning to look at his wife. "You shouldn't worry so much, Kimi," he said, giving her a kiss. "I'll be right back, okay?"  
  
"Okay," she replied, smiling. "Right back, though. Just get your shots of the ocean and come back inside--it's not very nice out."  
  
...  
  
"He didn't come back, did he?" Maleta asked quietly, huddling next to her mother. Her words were less of a question and more of a statement, really. She just wanted it confirmed.  
  
"No. He didn't." Those words were very final to Kimi, and she shuddered. "From what I learned, he decided to take a boat out--I don't know why," she muttered, finally letting the tears she'd been holding back fall. One landed on the top of Maleta's head. "He was stupid, sometimes, Mally. He thought he was invinceable. He thought he could do anything...and he couldn't."  
  
She sniffled, holding tightly to her daughter. Maleta's eyes were getting wet, too. She wrapped an arm around her mother's waist, letting herself cry, even though she didn't particularly like doing so.  
  
They sat there for quite a while, crying for what they'd lost in a moment.  
  
Extra long chapter today! We finally hear the truth of his disappearance! Exciting. This chapter was inspired by and written to the sounds of Dido's "White Flag". I discovered the song last night, and gahh...it's gorgeous. I'll leave you with the lyrics, and a little poke to review, review, review. Your reviews keep me going!  
  
Much love!  
  
know you think that I shouldn't still love you,   
  
I'll tell you that.  
  
But if I didn't say it, well I'd still have felt it   
  
where's the sense in that?   
  
I promise I'm not trying to make your life harder   
  
Or return to where we were   
  
Well I will go down with this ship   
  
And I won't put my hands up and surrender   
  
There will be no white flag above my door   
  
I'm in love and always will be   
  
I know I left too much mess and   
  
destruction to come back again   
  
And I caused but nothing but trouble   
  
I understand if you can't talk to me again   
  
And if you live by the rules of "it's over"   
  
then I'm sure that that makes sense   
  
Well I will go down with this ship   
  
And I won't put my hands up and surrender   
  
There will be no white flag above my door   
  
I'm in love and always will be   
  
And when we meet   
  
Which I'm sure we will   
  
All that was then   
  
Will be there still   
  
I'll let it pass   
  
And hold my tongue   
  
And you will think   
  
That I've moved on....   
  
Well I will go down with this ship   
  
And I won't put my hands up and surrender   
  
There will be no white flag above my door   
  
I'm in love and always will be   
  
Well I will go down with this ship   
  
And I won't put my hands up and surrender   
  
There will be no white flag above my door   
  
I'm in love and always will be   
  
Well I will go down with this ship   
  
And I won't put my hands up and surrender   
  
There will be no white flag above my door   
  
I'm in love and always will be 


	7. Preserve Your Memories

The rest of the afternoon was quiet, as was the evening. They had sandwiches for dinner and Maleta went to do her math homework. Later that night, they watched The Office together, as they always did. Right before Maleta was going to go to bed, Kimi ventured the question that had been bothering her earlier.  
  
"Mally, dear?" Kimi didn't call her daughter Mally as much as Tommy did--he'd come up with the nickname--but it was getting easier to call her the name.  
  
"Yeah, Mum?" Maleta was getting a bit tired and was going to ask her mother to tuck her in soon, but first she was curious as to what her mother wanted to know.  
  
Kimi's question was not asked in the forceful, I'm-talking-and-you'll-listen tone she used with other people--and with Maleta, when she wasn't doing as she was told. It was expressed much more timidly, choked with a bit of fear. "Do you--do you remember your father at all?"  
  
Maleta had been sitting in her usual tv-watching chair, an old, sharp-backed armchair with patterns of brownish flowers on it, but she moved when her mother asked the question. Coming over to where her mother was on the couch, Maleta curled against her again. Kimi put an arm around her only daughter, smoothing back the wisps of hair that had escaped from her French braid.  
  
"Do you?" Kimi asked again, curiously.  
  
Maleta shut her eyes, thinking back as far as she possibly could. "I'm not sure."  
  
"Think back to your earliest memories," Kimi said quietly, twisting the end of Maleta's plait between her fingers. "Will you tell them to me?"  
  
Nodding, she answered, "Yes, Mum."  
  
...  
  
She was perhaps two at the time, her dark hair more black than it was violet. Even now, of course, it was mainly dark, but back then, it was like night. Wearing a pink jumper--the American kind, Maleta thought, not the British--and a white shirt, she dashed around a house. It was big-looking, and a lot of it seemed orangeish to her.  
  
Behind her, a woman ran, smiling. She was old--older than Mum was now--but not so old that she couldn't play with her...granddaughter? That seemed right.  
  
...  
  
"My mother--your grandmother." Kimi said, interpreting the memory. "Grandma Kira."  
  
Maleta vaguely remembered calling the woman that, but not much.  
  
...  
  
"I'll get you!" the man called. He also chased her--Maleta thought perhaps she was younger. She couldn't remember anything but his face. He had glasses--thin, wire-rimmed...like the ones Maleta had now, but instead of the round shape hers took, he had square shaped glasses.  
  
His eyes were merry and xxxx when he caught her, swinging her up into his arms while she giggled madly. "I've caught you, Maleta! I've caught you, Lette!"  
  
But what she remembered most was his unruly hair, falling in front of his face unevenly. She pulled at it, marvelling in a childish way at its brilliant, orangey colour.  
  
...  
  
"When was that?" Kimi asked, her breath short. Hearing her daughter's memories was beyond strange, when she thought back to what she remembered of the time.  
  
"I don't know," Maleta admitted. "I must've been really little..."  
  
"But--he must have come over when I was out. I can't think of any time you were with my brother with me around."  
  
Maleta thought about this, and she sighed. From what she could remember of him, the man seemed like he was very nice, but the way her mother talked, you'd think he killed someone. She wished vaguely that she could really meet her uncle sometime, and that he and her mother would apologize to each other for whatever had happened so long ago to make them hate each other.  
  
...  
  
She was older now, but not too much older. Her hair was in braided pigtails and she was clothed in a nightgown. A pair of wiry but strong arms held her firmly, but not tightly, in a stranger's lap. For some reason, the memory seemed blurrier to Maleta than the others had.  
  
...  
  
"And--it was a story. I was listening to a story. It was about..." Maleta shut her eyes, trying to recall the details from so long ago. "About a bird..."  
  
Kimi's eyes widened. "The Firebird and Princess Vassilissa," she murmured. "It's an old Russian fairy tale--it was your father's favourite."  
  
"Then--" Maleta said, hesitantly, "Then I do have a memory of him?"  
  
"Yes," Kimi told her, hugging her daughter. "I can't tell the story well at all. Your father told it wonderfully. It was a romantic old story, too. I wish I'd thought to make him record himself telling it, because he knew it by heart..."  
  
Maleta wished she had, too. Hearing that would have been wonderful.  
  
"We have the Firebird Suite somewhere," Kimi went on. "It's a piece by Igor Stravinsky. It was based off of the story. Your father adored it, of course."  
  
Smiling softly, Maleta curled closer to her mother. "Could you tuck me in, Mum?" she asked quietly. "I'm tired..."  
  
Kimi looked at the wall-clock. "I should think so! It's eleven!"  
  
After that, the days went by rather uninterestingly. The weekend was over, and Maleta had school, while Kimi had work. Neither found their prospects very interesting. At night, Maleta did as many chores as she could, to free up time for listening to stories about her parents and their friends, particularly her father.  
  
There were a lot of things Kimi couldn't share with Maleta; the girl was too young to hear the details of some of the stories. Kimi suddenly wanted to tell all about the things that had happened, though. Maybe she should go see someone--a shrink, maybe.  
  
Maleta was having an excellent day that next Friday. She did well in school, and her best friend, Ivy, had invited her over to stay the night on Saturday. Everything was looking rosy, at the moment.  
  
"Mum! I'm home!" she called, coming into the house with her backpack and clarinet in tow.   
  
There was no response. Perhaps Kimi had to stay late? Usually, if she wasn't finished--which happened a lot--Maleta's mother would bring her work home and listen to Maleta talk about her day while she finished. Mum felt strongly about leaving Maleta "unattended", as she called it. Maleta always had a key, in case an emergency kept Mum at work, but those didn't often come up.  
  
Maybe she'd gone out for groceries. That was a possibility. Maleta went into the kitchen, shedding books, music, and outer layers of clothing as she did so. There wasn't a note on the fridge where her mother usually left them.  
  
Shrugging, Maleta went back to the front hall to lock the door--Mum would be paranoid as anything if she came home to an unlocked door, even if Maleta was home, too--and took advantage of her mother's absence to go watch tv. This was expressly forbidden in the afternoon, if Maleta had homework to do, but who was there to yell at her?  
  
Fifteen minutes later, she shut off the television, finding that the drivel that was on was its own punishment. No wonder Mum didn't want her to watch tv in the afternoons; it was godawful boring. Homework seemed much more interesting, and that was depressing, because Maleta had no vested interest in doing her homework.  
  
Maybe she'd read, instead. Maleta was still in the living room, depressed at the fact that the BBC had betrayed her so. She glanced over the books in their bookshelves finding nothing she wanted to read.  
  
Outside, there seemed to be some noise, like a scuffling. Maleta paid it no attention until there was a knock at the door. Sighing, she rolled her eyes, remembering that Mum was awaiting a parcel. She'd better go get the door--considering how the mail went around here, they might never get it, otherwise. Stupid Royal Mail Service; it wasn't worth beans, really.  
  
Opening the door, she was waiting to see their postman, with his round, shiny face. Instead, Maleta was greeted with a very different sight.  
  
A gaunt, greyish-looking stranger stood before her, holding a cane in one hand. His eyes were hidden by sunglasses, and his hair grew in uneven clumps. He looked very, very old to Maleta, and she wasn't sure who she was looking at.  
  
"M--may I help you, sir?" she asked, remembering to be polite and add the 'sir', since old people usually believed in formalities like that.  
  
The man's eyebrows curled into a frown. "Who are you?" he asked, leaning slightly on his cane.  
  
Maleta wasn't sure what to say. Mum told her not to give her name to strangers, but this old man didn't look like he'd be able to hurt a flea, let alone a ten year old seeing girl. She debated for a few moments whether or not to give her name while he waited, a tapping foot the only sign of impatience.  
  
"Well?" he asked. Maleta looked him over once more. His clothing was baggy, and it accentuated his thinness; none of it matched, either. Mum would've been shocked. Kimi believed in creativity, but this was absurd. Then, he was probably blind, judging by the cane and the heavy sunglasses.  
  
Finally, she figured he wasn't going to harm her. "I'm Maleta," she answered, not mentioning her last name. If the man didn't know it, he obviously didn't belong here--after all, how many Maletas were there in their neighborhood?   
  
Only one, of course, but this man didn't seem to know this. "Maleta Pickles?" he asked curiously, brushing a strand of hair away from his forehead.  
  
Maleta nodded, realized that if he was blind, he couldn't see her, and added a "yes" to her action.  
  
"Maleta Virgil Pickles?"  
  
Her plait bobbed with her head. "Yes, sir." Maleta was a bit exasperated with the old man, since really, would there be any other Maleta Pickleses on the Earth? She highly doubted it. Her parents picked her name to be unique.  
  
The man seemed startled. "Your mother is Kimi Pickles?"  
  
"Sir, did you want something, or were you going to stand here and ask me stuff all day?" Maleta couldn't help but feel frustrated now. Why did it matter who her mother was?  
  
"Is she home? Could I talk to her?"  
  
Maleta shook her head. "Nope. Mum's still at work. Come back around seven tonight, and she should be here."  
  
The man nodded. "Seven? I'll see you then, I guess. If you'll still be here. Will you?" He sounded strangely hopeful, considering.  
  
"Yeah, I will." Maleta couldn't help but add, "It's a good thing you picked today to come around. I'd be gone if it was tomorrow."  
  
"A good thing," the man echoed, nodding again. "Well, Maleta Virgil Pickles, I'll see you and your mother at seven. Thank you for your time." He turned and walked off, tapping his cane gently as he did.  
  
Well. That was definitely weird. Maleta shut the door, locked it, and went to find a book. Mum could deal with that man at seven, because Maleta didn't want to talk to him again.  
  
Well, as we can see from the new episode of All Grown Up, in which Kimi waxes obsessive over her Japanese-ness, that my fic is now officially AU (alternate universe). In this world, she's half French, and she doesn't delve into the annals of her family tree until later in her teens.   
  
If you're enjoying the story, hating the story, have predictions of what's going to happen, or have absolutely nothing to say, please review! I'll finish the story no matter what, but the reviews REALLY keep me going, and I appreciate them when I get them--so rare a moment that is. :)  
  
This chapter was inspired by "Bookends Theme" by Simon and Garfunkel, which most people know as "Old Friends/Bookends". It's a pretty song, and a sad song. I think, from now on, I'll be titling the chapters after songs, or using lyrics from songs. I'd been doing that subconsciously for a while, anyway. The first four chapters don't have song titles, but chapter five is from "Changes" by David Bowie, and chapter six is, of course, from Dido's "White Flag".  
  
The title of the story? From "Beautiful Boy", by John Lennon, of course.  
  
Much love, and if you haven't heard "Bookends", view the lyrics. I encourage everyone to listen to it!  
  
Time it was and what a time it was, it was   
  
A time of innocence, a time of confidences.   
  
Long ago, it must be; I have a photograph.   
  
Preserve your memories,   
  
They're all that's left you. 


	8. The Dream Afraid of Waking

"So a weird guy came to the door?" Kimi raised an eyebrow at her daughter as they ate. She'd managed to get home at six--Chloe, her new intern, had had some trouble with the copier, and she and Kimi had to fight it to finish up what they'd been doing. It was resistentialism at its best.  
  
Maleta nodded, taking a bite of her chicken sandwich. It was leftovers, as usual, but luckily lemon chicken translated spectacularly into sandwiches. "Yeah, that's what happened. He said he'd be back at seven." She swallowed.  
  
"Don't drop your aitches," Kimi said immediately. Maleta had the habit of doing so when she was eating, and the habit grated on her mother's ears terribly.  
  
"Sorry, Mum."  
  
"So it was a 'weird guy'?" Kimi frowned. "What did he look like? I guess you didn't recognize him."  
  
Shaking her head, Maleta answered, "No, I didn't recognize him. He had a cane, and sunglasses. I think he was blind."  
  
She closed her eyes, trying to remember what else was interesting about him. "His hair was kind of greyish--but not. It was in between grey and some other colour. I don't know what other one, though. It was...it wasn't really any colour. He was all kind of grey, really."  
  
"Well, I can't think of anyone I know who's blind," Kimi said. "Well, there's Flavia, of course, but she's not a man. Was he old, then? Losing hair?"  
  
"No, he had plenty of hair," said Maleta. "And I think he was quite young, really. He looked like he'd been sick for a long time, though. You know how you just kind of go--ashen after a while, like you're turning into dust? He looked like that."  
  
Shrugging, Kimi picked up their empty plates. "Well, I suppose we'll find out who he is when he comes back--in ten minutes," she added in surprise, looking at her watch. "Wow, I didn't realize it was so late. It's your night to do the dishes, Mally. I'll go tidy up the living room a bit."  
  
Maleta took the dinner dishes and washed them. She was thankful there weren't very many. Cleaning them took little time, and she wiped off the table and counters while she was at it.  
  
At seven o'clock on the dot, someone knocked on the door. Maleta raced out of the kitchen to follow her mother. Kimi smoothed down her hair repeatedly as she walked towards the door, meanwhile chiding herself for letting that nervous habit get to her.  
  
The door slowly opened as Maleta watched, its dark wood shining in the hallway's ceiling lights. Mum seemed to be moving slowly for some reason. Maybe she didn't really want to know who stood outside her house. A piece of wood wasn't much to seperate her, but maybe it was easier not to look. Maybe a weird man in the abstract was easier to deal with than a weird man standing in front of her. Maleta would come up with theory after theory later, when she had time to think about it, but she'd never know for sure, and perhaps that was best.  
  
The next moment became slower than anything in her memory; years later Maleta would feel as though it lasted ages. Her children never understood this fact when she told them, but the truth was, everything in the world seemed to stop when her mother finally looked at the person in front of her.  
  
He said nothing, and she said nothing, and Maleta said nothing. Perhaps they were all simply observing each others' reactions. The man looked grey, as he did before; he dreamed, deep within himself, of an open welcome. Gripping his cane uncomfortably, he waited, listening carefully.  
  
Maleta looked insanely curious; she wanted desperately to know who stood in front of her. He seemed like perhaps he could be someone important. She twisted at her long braid, eyes flitting back and forth from her mother to the man and back again.  
  
Kimi was frozen; what could she say? This man appeared, as an apparition, a spectre from her past. He stood humbly in front of her, and she could do nothing but feel her stomach tie up into icy knots. Her throat closed, her mouth opened; her eyes shut tightly and her head began to pound. The air was suddenly too cold and her skin was covered with some strange sheen of sweat. She couldn't feel anything but her heart, pumping blood through her veins so violently that she could not move. Her mind raced until she dropped away into some place that was safer for her, black and comforting.  
  
Maleta gasped. "Mum? Mum, what's wrong?" She watched, horrified, as her mother, her beautiful, lovely mother, seemed to sink into herself. Her shoulders slumped as she collapsed. Immediately, Maleta fell to her knees, hovering over her mother worriedly.  
  
"What's happened?" the stranger asked, frowning in confusion. "Is she all right?"  
  
Maleta felt on the verge of tears. What had happened to her mother? Why had she fainted like this? Maleta had never seen Mum faint before. She herself had fainted several summers ago, from heatstroke, but Mum was strong. She didn't faint. Fainting was for her silly little daughter. Mum couldn't just go out cold like that--what was Maleta supposed to do with the grey man now?  
  
"She's fainted," Maleta managed to choke out, holding tightly to her mother's hand.  
  
Perhaps the grey man understood Maleta's fear and pain, for he didn't chide Maleta or make light of the situation. In any case, he very politely asked, "May I come in?" At her nod, he stepped in, his cane tapping on the parquet floor, shutting the door quietly behind him.  
  
"What do I do?" Maleta murmured tearfully, mostly to herself. She didn't like the idea of letting inside the man who did this to her mother, but what choice was there? It would be rude to shut the door in his face.  
  
"If she's fainted," he answered gently, "she should wake up pretty soon. We'll have to leave her where she is for the moment, unless you can carry your mother."  
  
She nodded, still holding her mother's hand, as he came to sit across from her, on the other side of Kimi's body.  
  
"So, uhh..." Maleta wasn't sure how to ask the question without being terribly rude. She figure she might as well just ask it, since she didn't even know him. "So, err--who are you, anyway?"  
  
He didn't answer for quite a while. His face grew longer and sadder, and Maleta suddenly felt really bad for asking the question. He seemed much more melancholy now, as though some great hope he'd held had been dashed.  
  
He sat like that for so long that Maleta blushed a little, feeling terrible. "Never mind, it's okay--" she began, trying to get out of the embarrassing little situation, but he shook her head, silencing her.  
  
The grey man looked down--but he wasn't really looking, she reminded himself, so maybe it was just habit--his lips turned up slightly in a sad, rueful smile. "No, Maleta, it's my fault. I shouldn't have expected--expected you to know me." His voice cracked slightly.  
  
She frowned, curious as to his identity. "But then--who are you? If Mum fainted..."  
  
"Then obviously seeing me was a shock," he filled in, his smile broadening, looking no less saddened. "Maleta--Mally--I'm not sure how to put it. This will sound ridiculous, I'm sure, but it isn't--"  
  
She wished he'd just say it straight out.  
  
Apparently, he sensed her irritation at his dallying. All the words came out at once, and when Maleta processed them, her vision seemed to blur a bit, and her stomach turned over in its place. 'Maybe I'll join Mum for a spell,' she thought, closing her eyes and succumbing to the same strange darkness that had captured her mother.  
  
Her last thoughts were his words, pounding in her head as heavily as the blood that charged through her brain. "This'll sound stupid and totally Star Wars, but Maleta? Err...I'm your father."  
  
She awoke some time later on the couch. Kimi kneeled next to her, watching her like a hawk. When Maleta opened her eyes, her mother hugged her tightly. It looked like she'd been crying.  
  
Maleta tried to sit up, but Kimi pinned her firmly to the bed. "I'm sorry, Mally," she told her. "You'll get an awful headache if you sit up that fast."  
  
From her laying position, Maleta twisted her head around, looking for the grey man. She couldn't believe what he'd told her. For one thing, it seemed insane. It seemed ridiculous and impossible. For another, if the grey man was her father...where had he been? Why hadn't he come back to them? What kept him away so long?  
  
"He's in the kitchen," Kimi told her, as though she'd read her daughter's mind. "Did--did he tell you, Maleta?" Her voice was trembling like an aspen leaf in the wind.  
  
Maleta nodded dumbly, unsure of what to say. Finally, she gathered her wits. "Can I sit up now?"  
  
"Slowly," Kimi commanded, loosening her grip on her daughter.  
  
Maleta sat up, her head clearing a little. She suddenly realized that her mother had been crying. She felt like crying right now. "Mummy...?"  
  
"We'll figure it out later," Kimi murmured, sitting next to her daughter. She gathered her in her arms, cradling the girl against her. "First, I need to speak to him, all right?"  
  
She nodded again, her face buried against her mother. "Okay."  
  
"Do you want to go over to Ivy's house tonight? I can call up her mother--I'm sure she'd let you."  
  
"Yeah." Something told Maleta that whatever happened next could involve a lot of crying or shouting or both. She didn't want to be part of it. "Can I go get my stuff while you call?"  
  
Kimi nodded, reluctantly letting go of her daughter. It was painful, when all she wanted to do was either hold something or be held, but for now, she had to be strong. 'My name is Kimi Hanako Watanabe Finster Pickles,' she thought to herself, 'and I will not be afraid. I am not afraid.'  
  
It was a lie. Everything seemed like a lie to her now. Her fingers shook as she dialed the Kings' phone number, and her voice shook equally. She could only imagine what Tara King thought of Kimi's lack of composure.  
  
"Yes, for the night...Thank you...if you could pick her up, that would be wonderful," Kimi murmured, gripping the telephone as though it seperated her from death. "Thank you so much, Tara--I don't know how I can ever repay you."  
  
"No need," she answered reassuringly. "I'll be over in five minutes, all right? Whatever's wrong will be set to rights, I'm sure, Kimi. Don't worry."  
  
Ten minutes later, Maleta was safely off, and Kimi was on her own. She leaned against the front door, taking a deep breath. Here came the hard part. Walking to the kitchen, she held her head high, telling herself that she was brave. She was brave and strong. She'd become her own person, raised a little girl on her own, and was a success in the fashion world. She could handle confronting her husband.  
  
Or, at least, she hoped she could.  
  
-----  
  
Gah, I hope it wasn't too cliche, but it was planned from the start. The point of the story isn't so much to do something new and different, but to explore the characters' pasts (as I see them) and see how that affects them when they meet again.  
  
Thank you for the lovely reviews! Keep it up, heh! They mean more to me than you'd think.  
  
This chapter is inspired by Bette Midler's "The Rose". It's a powerful song. Enjoy it, and I'll see you next time, when Tommy and Kimi finally confront each other. Much love!  
  
Some say love it is a river  
  
That drowns the tender reed.  
  
Some say love it is a razor  
  
That leaves your soul to bleed.  
  
Some say love it is a hunger  
  
An endless, aching need  
  
I say love it is a flower  
  
And you its only seed.  
  
It's the heart afraid of breaking  
  
That never learns to dance  
  
It's the dream afraid of waking  
  
That never takes the chance.  
  
Its the one who won't be taken  
  
Who cannot seem to give  
  
And the soul afraid of dying  
  
That never learns to live.  
  
And the night has been too lonely  
  
And the road has been too long.  
  
And you think that love is only  
  
For the lucky and the strong.  
  
Just remember in the winter  
  
Far beneath the bitter snow  
  
Lies the seed that with the sun's love,  
  
In the spring,   
  
becomes a rose. 


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